Today I saw my dad off to the airport, but not before we first fumbled our way through a true tropical storm. I’m talking street flooding and business closures. These conditions found the two of us, along with a suitcase, backpack, and overnight bag, piled on my insubstantial motorbike. He drove, navigating the road rivers, inhaling rainwater, and hollering like a cowboy while I perched on the back, immobilized and clutching a tube of sunscreen that had fallen out of his bag onto the road earlier in the ride. That sunscreen stared, taunting, into my dampened and foggy soul; I gazed back, humble and defeated in its presence. I haven’t been fully dry since; the rain continues belligerently despite all my begging and bargaining. I guess the weather feels that I don’t have much to offer it which seems rather condescending and unrealistic on its part.
Must admit, I felt a touch jealous as I watched my dad sail back towards the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave (*But I want to be going back to America toooo!*), which brings me to my next piece of news entitled, ‘After Christmas I’m Moving To San Francisco With My BFF’. I couldn’t be more thrilled. Thailand is truly a gem and there’s no doubt that I’ll return, but at this time San Francisco feels oh-so -right and inviting. The reason behind all of this is threefold….. no, more than that even. It’s multifold, which makes my decision sound like a napkin and I swear it’s not. The axis (or center crease?) of this multifold choice is of course my steadfast and undying assertion that California is God’s Gift to Humanity. Moreover, living with Amanda (aforementioned bestie) will undoubtedly be a time of ridiculousity (I know), joy, and MOUNTAINS of writing material. Can’t wait.
So this means I have exactly two weeks left in Thailand. Inexplicably, I’ve opted to spend that time subjecting myself to a 10-day macrobiotic eating journey taught and encouraged by my school. The practice is called Ohsawa #7 and for those 10 days I can consume whole grain rice, millet, barley, oats, wheat, and buckwheat. Exclusively. Pretty luxurious, right? We’re disallowed even from drinking regular water; instead, our options are green, black, and peppermint tea or cold infusions with cinnamon sticks or sweet basil leaves. The reasoning behind this insanity rests on the belief in macrobiotics (along with many other systems, including yoga) that our current population leans disproportionately towards yin qualities and influences (yin as in yin & yang). Ohsawa #7 provides a “yang shock” to the body, thereby achieving a greater harmony and balance between the two polarities. Being told I’ll receive a 10-day shock of yang rather makes me feel like an extra in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but so be it.
Let yourselves be warned: this level of discipline and restriction is heretofore utterly unfamiliar to my body, so I predict the deprivation of these next 10 days will morph me into some sort of terrorizing half-human. I also foresee taking a lot of refuge in Lana Del Rey, for obvious reasons– she’s perpetually wearing a swimsuit and flower crown, uses ‘Cherry Schnapps’ as a lyric, and is simply an all-American badass, which is my favorite type of human. When I need cheering because I just ate a bowl of plain rice for the 12th time, I trust her to get the job done.
And when it’s all over, rest assured that I’ll provide you with more details than you ever thought you needed and certainly more than you wanted.